Yesterday's Gone: Season Three (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER)

I’m blinded by my allegiance to Rose, which maybe I am, but that doesn’t change the facts, or why you should care. The vials work, Doc. And they’ll work on Rose like they worked on Luca. All we have to do is try.”
    Williams was looking everywhere but at Boricio. When he finally looked at him, he said, “I won’t go over Will’s head.”
    “I’m not asking you to,” Boricio said, growing impatient. “I’m only asking that you ask Will. If we pitch from your lips instead of mine, we might get the ball over the fence.”
    Dr. Williams shook his head. “He’ll never agree.”
    “Please,” Boricio begged. “Please just try . Don’t let Rose live like this. She deserves more. Hell man, I deserve more. The vials worked with Luca; they’ll work with Rose, too.” Boricio repeated himself in case he’d been speaking Chinese the first time.
    “Rose has been through enough,” Dr. Williams said. “Will won’t put her in any more jeopardy.”
    “How much worse can it get? She’s in constant pain and her memory is getting even worse!”
    The doctor shrugged. “It’s too soon to gauge her recovery, Boricio. Things like this take time and it’s too soon to throw in the towel on her chances. I’m not sure how much you know, or what I’m allowed to say, but I can tell you that something is happening with Luca — something we don’t understand. Something directly related to the vials. There’s no way Will is going to risk us using it on another person.”
    Boricio’s growing anger went to worry. “Luca? Is he okay?” Boricio only gave Williams a second to speak before the anger returned and he growled, “What’s happening and why don’t I know?”
    “You’ll have to ask your father.”
    “You’ve gotta give me something,” Boricio insisted. “There must be something in Luca’s folder that you could tell his older brother.”
    Dr. Williams sighed, swallowed, paused, then said, “Luca’s abilities are rapidly increasing, Boricio. And appear to be growing unstable.” He shook his head, though it looked to Boricio like he wanted to say more. But he didn’t. Just, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
    Boricio scowled, said, “Fine,” then turned his back to Dr. Williams and climbed back into the air vent, leaving the grate on the doctor’s carpet. He crawled back to Rose’s bathroom, dropped onto the floor, replaced the vent, and then returned to her bedside.
    “I’ll figure this out, baby,” Boricio whispered in her ear. His lips lingered on her cheeks in a long farewell before he left the room.
    The guard outside turned to Boricio. “I didn’t expect you to be in there for half a year.”
    “Yeah,” Boricio said. “Sorry about that. I had to make a grunt sculpture. Hope you don’t need to use the bathroom before we head back.” Boricio waved his hand in front of his nose, while the guard soured his face as if he could smell what wasn’t really there.
    Boricio swallowed, then followed the guard down the long hall, scared for Luca, and terrified that the drop of hope waiting like dew on his Rose had just evaporated under an angry sun of nothing.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 7 — Charlie Wilkens Part 2

    Charlie turned to Imaginary Boricio who was standing beside him, shrugging his shoulders.
    “You can see him?” Charlie asked the yellow hazmat-suited Boricio. “I thought he was in my head!”
    “He is in your head. But I can see in there.”
    “What kinda voodoo hoodoo French fried vanilla fuck shake is this?” Imaginary Boricio said. “Can you see this, ya’ fuck?” Boricio asked, giving hazmat-suit Boricio the only finger that mattered.
    If he could see the insult, bald Boricio didn’t react.
    “How can you read my mind? What are you?” Charlie asked, feeling invaded, and quickly trying to bury his thoughts, though the more he tried to hide things, the more his brain wanted to put the sordid images of his memory on full display, like any number of the 2,348 or so times Charlie had jerked off to Internet porn.
    Stop it!
    Think normal shit!
    Imaginary Boricio looked at Charlie with feigned disgust, “Woah, you are one sick puppy, Downtown Charlie Brown! I thought I was sick, but the red lights in your district are downright nasty!” He laughed.
    Fuck you.
    “Excuse me?” Hazmat-suit Boricio said.
    “No, not you. Fuck you heard that? Stop! Stay outta my head!”
    “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a side effect … Anyway, um, how do you know